


North Star, Red Devil

by Avathys



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant up until S3E13, Canon Divergence, Dex needs structure, Dom/sub Undertones, Dont fight when you can fuck, Hate Sex, Instead they fuck, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Matt needs release, Matt saves Dex, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Or end up like these two, So Bullseye is never born, Take your meds children!, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, and handcuffs him to the radiator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 06:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16382870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avathys/pseuds/Avathys
Summary: Dex wakes up handcuffed to a radiator.The Devil saved him last night.And apparently then kidnapped him and stole all his clothes.-Compliant with Season 3 until Finale, so don't read unless you've watched the AMAZING new season (Go watch it!)-





	North Star, Red Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I binged all of Season 3 of Daredevil and I had to write a what if. And basically it escalated into Matt and Dex having steamy hate sex and being crazy together. Don't read unless you've watched season 3 because there are spoilers. 
> 
> Also, this is unbeta'd and not thought out, so there might be errors and plotholes. I'm just write here, man.

**The Devil is My North Star**

 

Chapter One - The Light

 

_“You’ll be fine, Dex, we prepared for this….”_

 

There was a bright light, burning into his eyelids, fading from blue to pink to white.

 

_A white suit, a red one, and a black one. Three dancers caught in the closing act._

 

Is this the end?

 

Dex almost laughed, but the pain in his….   _everywhere,_ kept him silent and still. This whole situation was wrong anyways, with the bright lights calling to him, exposing him. If this was in fact the end, he would definitely not be joining the asshole upstairs. There was no doubt in his mind that his final destination would indeed be the other one. The bad place. Deep. Dark. The Downstairs, so to speak.

 

_“You’re going to get a job with a nice rigid structure.”_

 

_Large, bloody hands grabbing him and lifting him into the air…. Preparing to slam him into a wall…._

 

The bright lights remained ever taunting and Dex found himself annoyed that Heaven refused to leave him alone, the persistent dicks. His anger, ever present, simmered beneath the surface. The pain was like fire and he needed to scream, loudly. Until recent events, he had managed to keep both his pain and rage from boiling over, but now that he had let the demons out, they refused to cool and instead escaped like steam around the lid of a pot.

 

_“You’ll stick to your meds….”_

 

_Darkness saved him, the Devil himself attacking the man in all white in order to free him. Dex plummeted to the ground, his hip popping loudly….._

 

He needed to take the lid off. He needed to release the pressure before it built up. Again.

 

He needed the bloody fucking light turned off.

 

_“Find someone, any decent person will do…”_

 

_A woman screaming to stop… please stop…._

 

Spite gave him the strength to hiss loudly, anger could be kind that way. “Turn off the fucking light!” His voice sounded like sandpaper, his throat dryer than the damned Sahara.

 

_Where the hell am I anyways?_

 

Then exhaustion, and darkness.

 

Finally.

 

Right where he belonged.

 

_You’re internal compass isn’t broken Dex, it just does better with the North Star to guide you._

 

-

 

When Dex finally woke, the sun greeted him brightly. A flippant curse was all he could manage before he tried rolling away, but a sudden pain shooting up his spine stopped him. His hip, the one he had attempted to roll onto, was burning so badly Dex couldn’t even breathe, let alone cry out, so he quickly flipped onto his back with a choked grunt.

 

Instinctively, Dex reached down to inspect the source of such agony, but his arm came up short. The clanging of metal and against metal, a cool vice like grip around his wrist, and another curse. Dex looked down, at both his hip and his hand to see what in the holy hell was going on.

 

 _Why am I laying on the floor in just my boxers?_  

 

The entire side of his torso and thigh, along with the hip in question was black with bruising, but that was nothing compared to his arm.

 

Handcuffs.

 

His dominant hand was trapped in the clutches of handcuffs, the other ring fastened to what looked like an old white radiator. And then everything came back to him. Fisk, the wedding, Daredevil…. _Julie…_... He remembered that Fisk picked him up mid fight, and almost threw him into a wall, which surely would have broken his back. But then the Devil saved him.

 

And had apparently kidnapped him and then stolen all his clothes.

 

“Fucking bastard.” Dex grate out between clenched teeth. He quickly shed the thin blanket that had hastily been throw over him and slipped downward during the night. Sitting up proved to be a challenge considering his right side was heavily bruised and swollen and his hand was immobilized. Dex forced his body to comply and then mustered up every available scrap of strength to pull against his constraint. There wasn’t an inch of his body that didn’t hurt and all movement was sluggish, like he was under water, so he tired quickly. Even placing his bare feet flat on the wall and using that to leverage his bulk against the handcuffs proved to be futile. He was simply too weak, and that radiator was solid.

 

The sound of a heavy door being opened and then promptly closed interrupted him and Dex turned to face the source, only taking the briefest of moments to examine the room around him. He was in a living room with bare furniture, cheap and simplistic. Off to one side was a kitchen and on the living room’s opposite end a large sliding door opened to a bedroom. The noise was coming from a hallway next to the kitchen, followed by movement as the newcomer walked unhurriedly into Dex’s field of vision.

 

Dex cursed again, quietly under his breath. He should have looked for something, anything, to use as a weapon. He belatedly considered breaking the window behind him and using the shards to stab anyone who dared come near him.

 

A man appeared from around the corner of the hallway, dressed in black sweatpants, t-shirt and oversized jacket. At first, Dex was unimpressed, but then he noticed a pair of dark round sunglasses and a walking stick.

 

Blind.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Dex growled, but then realized it didn't really matter who this guy was. He was obviously not Daredevil, so this warm body equated to nothing more than an inconvenience, a complication to his inevitable escape.  

 

“The guy who saved you and then treated you to breakfast.” The blind man replied. There was a blur in the air and Dex barely managed to catch the brown paper bag as it hit him in the chest.

 

_Decent aim for a blind guy…. How?_

 

The bag was folded shut and Dex gave the other man a sharp look before yanking it open.

 

Donuts.

 

‘The guy who saved you….’

 

Dex froze, staring at the food as his frazzled, broken mind sorted through the situation. And suddenly it all made sense. His biggest complaint when it came to that stupid Halloween costume (and there were many complaints, seriously fucking red!? What an awful color) was that the mask was impossible to see through. And Daredevil had worn that ridiculous black bandana over his face, Dex remembered wondering how the asshole could see through that thing as well.

 

It was simple, Daredevil did not use his eyes.

 

This blind man…..

 

_Does Fisk know?_

 

Dex looked up from the bag of donuts, focusing in on dark features with laser precision. The devil was handsome, brunette, and slender, patiently waiting for Dex to put the pieces together. He seemed to know exactly the moment Dex figured out who he was, because a small smile played on his lips, growing bigger as his prisoner’s heart beat faster.

 

The window right behind Dex looked like a better and better option the more he thought about it

 

_Of course Fisk knew…._

 

The other man spoke before Dex could even fully grasp the situation, “I believe what you’re wanting to say is thank you.”

 

Dex sputtered, “Thank you!?!”

 

“You’re welcome.” Smooth bastard.

 

“Really?” Nice one Dex.

 

“Yes, you are indeed very welco-”

 

“ _Fuck_ you!!!” Dex roared, his nostrils flaring like a winded horse, as the devil fell silent,  “Why the fuck would I thank you?”

 

“Well, for one not turning you over to the police and the FBI,” His voice was oddly calm, melodic. “Everyone is looking for you, they talk about you on every channel, every news segment, offering a reward for information on your whereabouts.”

 

Now it was Dex’s turn to fall silent. The devil was standing here, right in front of him, alive and free. That could only mean he had won against Fisk and….

 

_Oh no… ohnoohnoohnoOHSHIT!!!_

 

Why hadn’t he figured this out sooner? Damn, he must have really gotten his ass kicked.

 

_“...get a job with a nice rigid structure.”_

 

“Secondly,” Dex was prevented from spiralling into panic by that infuriatingly calm voice. He wanted to make this man scream, chip away at all he was and make him as unhinged as Dex felt. “For fixing your dislocated hip, it was completely out of the socket after Fisk dropped you, so I almost had to carry you away,” Dex faintly remembered going up and down a multitude of stairs, hobbling on one foot, avoiding the FBI and NYPD no easy feat. There had been a voice telling him when and where to move. He remembered questioning why he was doing what this particular voice told him to do, especially since he had trouble sometimes picking out which ones to obey, “And finally, for saving your life.”

 

Dex snorted.

 

“Or at least saving your back.” The blind man corrected.

 

Anger was boiling inside Dex, as always, his chest was almost bursting, so he decided to just let it out and consume him.

 

“I didn’t need or ask for you to do that! I don’t want your help! Or your sympathy, asshole!” It took Dex a second to realize he was yelling, almost screaming, the words at a man not ten feet away. “So take your bullshit and your judgement and FUCK! OFF!”

 

Dex paused to catch his breath, body heaving from the adrenaline.

 

“Let me go.” He demanded suddenly, oddly quiet considering his outburst not moments before.

 

The devil shook his head once and then started for his kitchen, gently setting his remaining grocery bag on the counter.

 

“No.” That was all. The message was clear. This was not an argument, and Dex had no say in the matter.

 

“Let. Me. Go!”

 

“No.”

 

“NOW!” Dex gave the handcuffs a yank hard enough to shake the metal frame of the radiator. His shoulder strained against the jerk and pain shot once again along is side. A primal growl of agony and frustration escaped him; it was the sound of a caged animal enraged at the bars containing it.

 

Instead of answering him, the devil carefully shed both his glasses and walking stick. His eyes were a warm brown and vacant, and Dex found that oddly appealing. Someone who could not see right through him, even though he was currently laid bare for all to judge. The atmosphere was stiff with tension as the dark haired man sat down at the island, pulled a single donut from his bag, and took a large bite. It made Dex very aware of his own grumbling stomach.

 

“Eat.” The devil said patiently, as if he could hear it too, while taking another large bite of his meal and chewing.

 

“Why?” Dex finally laughed at the absurdity of the situation, “Why am I even here?”

 

The devil paused, mouth full. Dex watched as he swallowed slowly, and for the first time he showed hesitation. “I don’t know,” the answer was just a whisper, a sigh that Dex could barely hear, “To live….”

 

Dex watched as the other man quickly took another bite of his meal to excuse himself from continuing his explanation. Everything about this whole situation threw him. It made him feel sort of… strange. He had never been good with emotions, ever since he was a child they had been something that constantly annoyed and confused him, so the slowly building knot in his chest was both foreign and unwelcome.

 

The stool scraped the floor as the dark man pushed away from the island, his donut now gone. Dex watched as he then made his way confidently across the living room, swift and elegant, and there was no mistaking that he had some way to ‘see’ where he was going. Before he disappeared into the bedroom, he turned and faced Dex, face neutral and polite. “My name is Matt, by the way.” The devil abruptly supplied, and while his face was carefully controlled, his voice a little too loud, the words coming a little too fast. Dex had hit a nerve.

 

Good.

 

“Where the hell are my clothes?!” Dex shot back nastily, as if he could care less what stupid name the man called himself.

 

“Oh, you mean my suit, the one I use to protect people?” the other man _-Matt-_ seethed, his apprehension turning to annoyance.

 

Dex paused, unable to see what the problem was. He needed clothes! Unless the devil was a closet nudist as well as a kidnapper who fed his prisoners donuts.

 

“Yeah, I’ll be keeping that.” Matt gave a toothy flash of a smile, before turning back and continuing towards the bedroom.

 

Dex wanted to punch something- no, _throw_ something, preferably sharp, or maybe scream out,  like Fisk had taught him to, but he found he did not have the energy. Not just physically, so breaking a thick window was out of the question, but mentally. He was exhausted, as well as lost in a sea of uncertainty.

 

So instead he threw his bag of donuts, which smacked against the large sliding doors just as the Matt passed through them.

 

Dex had no idea why he didn’t aim straight for the bastard. Some broken impulse inside him actually wanted to say thank you. A part of him recognized that if not for Matt’s actions last night, he could have been seriously injured. Another part knew exactly what the FBI could and _would_ do to him if they captured him.

 

Maybe he didn’t bitch smack the devil because it was just a bag of baked goods and this entire situation was embarrassingly futile.

 

One thing was true though; no amount of screaming could give him direction now.

 

-

 

The changing light was back, blue to pink to white and back to blue.

 

Dex growled out angrily, giving his wrist restraint an ornery yank just because he was in a bad mood at being woken up. Liberation was impractical, but the token effort mattered. At least to Dex.

 

The apartment was dark with night time, all the lights turned off. Why would a blind man need them? Dex cursed his own stupidity, following the light source out the window. A huge billboard, its bright lights advertising an airline company, glared hatefully back at him.

 

It wasn’t Heaven calling. He would never be welcome there.

 

What was before him was something much more pointless.

 

Freedom.

 

So Dex pulled his blanket up over his head and fell back asleep.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Please throw me some kudos and leave me a comment, i like to know what people think and how to improve. 
> 
> Thanks!


End file.
